


What Comes After

by Mad_Birdy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mad Max Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Torture, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Birdy/pseuds/Mad_Birdy
Summary: Inspired by watching the film Mad Max: Fury Road. I thought "wouldn't it be cool to put SPN in the Mad Max universe, and make it as if the apocalypse had happened?" so I wrote it.UNFINISHED AND ABANDONED.Sam and Dean Winchester are brothers parted by lies and deceit, separated by the lives they've picked. Sam follows Lucifer Morningstar and his gang, known as the Devil's Advocates; Dean follows Michael and the Chosen of the Lord. Castiel and Meg have broken away from the gangs in order to form the Peacemongers, because they believe there is more to what happened in the Apocalypse than the leaders on either side will tell.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This really is a dark fic, okay? There's rape and torture right here in the first chapter, so be warned.

A cloud of dust approaches the Outpost, faint outlines of vehicles visible through the haze. A tall man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stands at the edge of a rooftop, watching the group of cars and motorcycles draw closer. He’s joined by a woman with long, dark hair that hangs about her shoulders. “Who is it, Cas?” she asks, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“It’s the Advocates,” he answers, squinting slightly. “And Lucifer himself has decided to join them.”

“That means a big deal’s going down,” she says, tilting her head.

Cas looks at her. “Have any idea about what they might be trading today, Meg?”

Meg shrugs. “My best guess? Whoever they caught in the last battle. Which means the Chosen will be along here shortly after.” He nods, looking back out to the desert, watching the two lead motorcycles, connected by a long, taut chain. She puts a hand on his bare chest, beneath the long, faded leather overcoat he always wears, and continues. “We should get to the market just after the trade. Gain us some time to work on whoever it is before the Chosen show up.” He nods again, remaining silent, and she nods, knowing he’s already forming a plan.

~~~

The gang known as the Devil’s Advocates slows to a stop once inside the gates of the Outpost, the cloud of dust behind them drifting forward with the wind. Lucifer, their leader, swings off his motorcycle, pushing his mask up onto his head as he stalks forward, snapping his fingers. A man dismounts from the other motorcycle, following Lucifer. He’s tall and built, his leather pants clinging to the hard lines of his muscles. But on his upper body, his only adornment is a thick leather collar around his neck and a matching leather muzzle, and a long chain hangs from the back of the collar. His hazel eyes are dead as he follows his leader, his long brown blown into his face from the wind.

Lucifer makes his way to a large truck with a cage on the back, motioning for the guard, Alistair, to open it. With a wide, leering grin, the thin man unlocks the cage door and drags out a woman by her hair. Her eye is swollen shut, her black hair matted with blood, and as soon as he lets go of her, she collapses to her hands and knees. “Up,” Lucifer growls. When she doesn’t, he crouches quickly, gripping her chin to make her look at him. “Are you having trouble hearing me, girl?”

She spits in his face. “I heard you,” she says, voice rough from screaming and lack of water.

He snarls, standing and wiping off his face. “Sam!” The man in the collar strides forward. “Drag her to the market, if she won’t stand on her own.” Sam nods, reaching down grabbing her by the chains around her wrists, starting to drag her. She struggles to stand as they go towards the market, tears forming in her eyes as the sand cuts deep into her wounds.

Lucifer haggles with the market organizer. “Her name’s Hannah. She fought like a bitch, so she’s strong, worth at least a week’s meat for my gang.” The organizer looks her over, eyes softening slightly. “Come on, Benny, my man. You know she’s worth it.”

Benny nods slowly. “You’re right,” he says, motioning to a few workers, who run off to the storerooms to get the meat. “She’ll make a nice pet for someone.” Hannah grimaces as Sam hands her chains over to Benny, hoping against hope that the Chosen will arrive and redeem her before she’s bought by some slimy Outposter.

~~~

In the backseat of a heavily modified ‘67 Impala, a man with short-cropped brown hair and freckles dusted across his face snores deeply, nearly empty bottle of whiskey clutched loosely in his hand. “Dean!” someone from outside shouts, banging on one of the doors. The man jolts awake, pulling a gun on the person who shouted at him. “Get ready to go! Boss says we’re heading out in five.”

“Son of a bitch, Raph,” Dean says, dropping the pistol and dragging his hand over his face. “I coulda shot you.”

“Next time,” Raphael sneers. “Go easy on the whiskey.” He sniggers and walks off. Dean falls back on the seat, groaning. He raises the bottle to his lips, finishing it off and tossing it onto the floor. Then he clambers over the seat and slides behind the wheel, starting her up as the other vehicles around him rumble.

“Ready for a new day, Baby?” he mumbles fondly to the car, running his hand over the dash to clear away the dust that had settled overnight. He puts her in gear and drives off, taking up position next to an old topless two-seater driven by Michael, the Boss.

~~~

Gadreel stands at his window, watching the scene unfolding in the market below him. He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing as recognition stirs in his mind at the sight of the woman being traded. Turning, he goes to a small metal box in the wall, unlocking it with a key on a chain around his neck, and looks inside for something of value to trade. He frowns, sighs, shuts the box again, locks it back, and returns to the window, watching Benny take the woman into his home.

His jaw clenches, and he nods, leaving his room and entering the small courtyard adjoining his home. The majority of the ground was taken up with a carefully cultivated garden, a small dirt path winding through it leading to the garage. Gadreel kneels down next to a few small plants, picking leaves and stems. Then he moves to his kitchen, carefully laying out the leaves in a small machine and dehydrating them. Methodically, he crumbles the leaves and sorts them into small bags, then ties them off together with a single string, adding a piece of a plant root to the end. He wraps the cord around his wrist and heads to the market.

~~~

After making the deal, the Advocates head back to their base camp in the rocky caves twenty miles out from the Outpost. Now, there’s a large fire roaring in the main cavern and the members of the gang gather around, the smell of roasting meat thick in the air. Lucifer sits in his chair at the back, leaning on one elbow with a small smile as he observes his people. Sam sits beside him on the ground, legs crossed, the chain on his collar connected with a padlock to the arm of his leader’s chair. His eyes are trained on the ground, fingers running idly through the thin layer of sand that coated the rocky floor.

Lucifer watches him for a moment, then looks to the slaves tending the fire and snaps. “Mildred!” he calls out. A older woman looks up at him, and he continues. “Bring my dinner, and have Eileen bring the dog’s.” Mildred nodded and turned to another woman, making a series of motions with her hands. Eileen motioned back, then cut off a chunk of meat and put it in a metal bowl, standing with Mildred and taking the food to Lucifer and Sam.

As Mildred serves Lucifer, Eileen kneels down next to Sam, setting the bowl down in front of him and drawing his attention by putting two fingers under his chin. He looks up at her, a spark of something deep in his eyes as he realizes who it is. She makes the sign for dinner -- pointer finger out, the rest together and tapped against her lips -- then points to the bowl. Sam nods and she reaches behind his head to unlatch his muzzle and slip it off him carefully. He immediately leans forward and begins to eating, grabbing the meat with both of his hands and ripping bites out of it.

Eileen watches him closely, noting the stubble on his face and the irritation that the muzzle caused by rubbing against the short hairs. She sighs, looking up at Lucifer and studying him. He feels her gaze and looks down as she looks away again. “Look at the dog,” he says, motioning to Sam. “Eating like he’s starving.” His hand moves, hitting Sam on the back of the head. “Use your manners, dog.” Sam nods mutely, taking smaller bites and chewing them longer, eyes darting to Lucifer. “Better.”

Later that night, Eileen crouches next to the dying fire with Mildred, watching her face contort with sadness and disgust. Quiet words slip through her lips, “Is it happening again?”

“Yes,” the older woman says, nodding. “Bad tonight.” She winces as a deep scream of agony rips through the cave, followed by groans and grunts. A shiver runs through her body and she busies herself with chores to ignore them. A few minutes later, she motions to Eileen. “It’s over.” Eileen nods and creeps quietly to a separate cavern, entering it slowly, watching for movement. Lucifer is stretched out comfortably on a mattress, snoring, but she heads immediately for the far corner, in which stands a cage.

Sam is curled up tight, whimpering quietly. Her heart twists in her chest as she approaches him, watching his shoulders shake with sobs she can’t hear. She kneels next to the cage, reaching through the bars to touch his shoulder gently. He flinches away, turning to her with wide eyes. She signs “safe” and he relaxes, rising to his knees and drawing close to the bars. Reaching in again, she removes his muzzle gently and sets it down on the ground, signing “shave” as she reaches to her belt for a small knife. He nods, holding still as she begins to drag the knife carefully over his cheeks and chin. When she’s finished, she wets her hands with water from a bottle beside her and washes his face gently, his eyes roving her face. When she finishes, she caps the water and signs “hurt” with a tilt of her head and brows pulled together, a question.

He shakes his head, signing “sore”, eyes avoiding hers for once. Eileen nods, sighing, and reaches through to him again, taking his face between her hands gently. Sam closes his eyes and leans forward, resting his forehead against the bars. She presses her own forehead to his through the cage, closing her eyes as well. “Thank you,” he whispers quietly, voice hoarse and thick. She doesn’t hear him or see his lips, but she can feel his jaw move and she pulls away to look at him. He signs this time -- a simple touch to his chin and pull away -- and she smiles softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

~~~

Castiel and Meg walk into Benny’s home, approaching the woman recently traded. “Hannah,” the man says, sitting next to her.

She looks at him, eyes widening. “Castiel. You lived?”

He nods. “I did. I left the battle, injured, but free.” He looks at Meg, smiling. “And she joined me.”

Hannah frowns. “Why did you leave? And why are you with her? You know the Advocates are the reason the Apocalypse happened.”

Meg steps forward, shaking her head. “You can think whatever you want of the Advocates, but we’re not responsible for this sandy wasteland. We thought the Chosen were. That’s what Lucifer told us.”

“Both sides have been lied to, it seems,” Castiel adds. “We’ve been trying to discover who actually did cause all this.”

“So all the fighting… is pointless?” Hannah asks.

“I’m afraid so. It’s nothing more than sibling rivalry.”

She shudders. “All those people have died and been tortured, harmed, for two pairs of brothers’ hate.”

Meg nods. “We know. It’s sick, and it needs to stop.” She exchanges a look with Castiel, then locks eyes with Hannah. “And you can help us.”

“How?”

“The more people we convert from violence,” Castiel says. “The more we will be able to stop the fighting. If Lucifer and Michael are left with only Sam and Dean on their sides, then maybe they will listen to reason.”

Hannah nods. “I understand. What do you--”

They were interrupted by Benny entering with Gadreel. “This man wishes to trade for you, Hannah. His price is sufficient.”

She looks at Gadreel, tilting her head. He smiles gently, speaking softly. “Spices. And I will not harm you, you have my word.”

Castiel nods. “Gadreel is an honorable man. He has helped us many times with our cause. You can trust him, Hannah.”

She looks him over once again before nodding. “Very well.” Gadreel nods and hands Benny the spices, trading them for the key to her chains. He unlocks them and gently removes them, holding out his hand to her. She takes it and tries to stand, but her legs are shaky and she stumbles over her first steps.

“Allow me,” Gadreel says, draping her arm over his shoulders. She nods, and he bends at the knees, wrapping one arm around her upper back and the other beneath her knees. He carries her to his home and places her on his bed, preparing to clean and bandage her injuries.

Castiel and Meg watch them until they are hidden by the walls of the house. “You think she’ll work on him well?” Meg asks.

He nods. “Yes, I believe so. And then it will just be a matter of time before we’re heading for a better place.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael comes to trade for Hannah, but gets a surprise.
> 
> No content warnings this time, it's a pretty tame chapter.

Hannah watches the man in front of her, puzzling over him and trying to figure him out. Gadreel’s hands are soft and gentle as they clean and bandage her wounds, and afterwards his voice is just as soft and gentle when he asks if she wants anything to eat. In the end, he makes a thin but filling soup that’s like nothing she’s tasted in years. “There are spices in this,” she says, eyes wide with disbelief. He nods, smiling slightly. “And you traded spices for me.”

“For your freedom, yes.” His eyes hold hers for a moment, and then he looks back down at his bowl.

“My freedom…” She watches him nod as he tilts the bowl, finishing off the soup. “But where did you get the spices? I didn’t think there were any left.”

Once again she gets lost in his green eyes as he looks at her, considering. The garden is his refuge, his safe place, but for some reason he wants to trust her with the secret, knows she’ll keep it for him. So he stands and holds his hand out to her, smiling softly to reassure her. She takes his hand carefully, standing and stepping towards him. Her leg still causes her to limp, though not as bad after the ministrations of Gadreel’s careful hands, so he slips his arm around her waist to support her.

A slight blush covers Hannah’s face at the casual touch but she wraps her own arm around his waist to steady herself, walking outside. All thoughts of him fly from her mind, though, as soon as she sees the garden before her. It’s beautiful, she thinks, pulling away from him to crouch down and look at the plants. A small smile graces his face as he watches her stroke the green leaves as though they were the most precious thing in the world.

“Basil, coriander, thyme,” she says, moving from plant to plant. “Oregano, mint, bay, cilantro…” She looks up at him. “Gadreel, how do you get all these to grow here? Surely this takes far too much water.”

He shakes his head, helping her up again, one hand steady on her waist. “Not as much as you would think. And I gained special permission from the organizers to receive an extra water portion. They know that spices are good for the market.”

Hannah nods as she looks around at the other vegetables and fruits growing there. “Both camps would pay tremendously for all this.” She runs her hand over the slender vine of a tomato plant. “Does everyone in the Outpost know you have this garden?”

Gadreel shakes his head. “Only the organizers. Others might--” He trails off as she hobbles over to the furthest corner of the garden.

“These… these aren’t herbs or fruits or vegetables,” she says in awe, leaning forward to get a closer look at some of the plants. “These are flowers. Why would you be allowed to grow these? They’re not useful.”

“Most of them have no practical use, I agree.” He kneels in the dirt by the flowers, running his fingers reverently over the petals. “But I argue that their beauty is reason enough to grow them.” His brow draws in and she kneels next to him, watching him. “The world we live in is desolate and barren, and I look around and I can’t see any beauty left, none of the beauty that I…” He cuts himself off abruptly, looking down at the flowers intently. “But,” he continues after a long moment. “These flowers remind me that beauty can be found anywhere, even in the most desolate landscapes.” His eyes catch hers; her breath hitches at the tender look he gives her; and then the moment is broken when he looks away, back to the flowers.

“Tell me what they are?” Hannah asks, voice quiet as she tries to fathom what just passed between them.

Gadreel looks at her again, tilting his head, eyes curious this time. “What?”

“You know so much about them… and I’d like to know too.” She smiles softly, hesitantly, and his gaze is drawn to her lips, surprise and awe written clearly on his face for a moment before clears his throat and nods.

“Of course.” He draws her attention to a low-growing plant with yellow flowers, gently angling a stem to show the petals. “This one is called Weaver’s Broom. It can be used to flavor food, to create dye for clothing, and as a fiber for clothing.” A plant with brown stems and pink flowers is Showy Rushpink, and a bushy evergreen with white flowers is Mountain Pepperplant. There’s Carmine Gilia, Royal Penstemon, Sego Lily, Spreading Wallflower, and at least twenty other flowering plants in his garden. “But this one,” he says, pointing out a small, curved flower with five petals that started white and ended lavender and had a red dot in the middle. “This one is my favorite. It’s called the Desert Five Spot.” He plucks one of the flowers and holds it up to her.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, tilting her head as she examines it.

“May I?” he asks, motioning towards the side of her face. She nods, looking back to him as he moves her hair back and tucks the short stem of the flower behind her ear. “A beauty for a…” The words catch, and he has to look down and clear his throat, which she is thankful for as a slight blush spreads across her cheeks.

~~~

Early the next morning, another dust cloud rises in the distance and approaches the Outpost. This time it’s a group of cars led by an old, beat-up Impala and an equally well-worn topless Spitfire. They rolled to a stop just inside the city gates, Michael and Dean getting out of their cars and heading for the market. A young man watched them go from his perch on the top of a pole that was attached to the back of Dean’s car. His goggles and handkerchief obscured his face, and his lean form balanced with tense muscles on the small circle of metal that made his perch.

Michael strides up to the door of Benny’s house, pounding loudly. After a few minutes, Benny walks out. “Can I help you, Michael?” he asks, wiping his hands on his shirt.

“The woman who was traded to you,” Michael says with a nod. “Her name is Hannah. I want to trade to get her back.”

Benny shakes his head. “I’m sorry, brother, but she’s already been bought. Not even half an hour after the Advocates brought her here.”

The blond man tilts his head, frowning. “Bought by who?”

“Gadreel. Fella lives in the northeast corner of the Outpost. Dark green door. Doubt he’ll wanna trade her to you, though.”

Michael nods curtly. “We’ll see about that. Thank you.” He turns and walks away, heading for the home of the man who took his follower. Dean follows silently, eyes roaming the city streets as they travel along them.

“Ben!” The voice is loud and familiar, the name even more so, and Dean automatically looks towards the sound before his head can remind him not to. A small woman with dark hair pulled up into a messy bun stands outside a house, basket of laundry on her hip. A boy of about twelve years leans the doorway.

“Yeah, Mom?” he asks.

“Would you get the clothespins for me? I forgot to grab them on my way out.” Ben nods and runs back inside, and the woman turns as she feels eyes on her. Dean tries to look away but finds that he can’t, and so his eyes lock with those of Lisa Braeden, his estranged wife. For a moment, time seems to stand still and years’ worth of pain and regret and sadness pass between them, and then she’s turning away again to take the clothespins from her son and Dean is catching up with Michael.

From the rooftops, Meg and Castiel watch the leaders of the Chosen make their way to Gadreel’s home. “Should we warn them?” Meg asks.

Cas shakes his head. “No. Their arrival must be a surprise, and Hannah must choose for herself to stay. That will place the seed of doubt into Dean and Michael’s minds.”

“And if she chooses to go back with them?”

“Then we’ll have to wait for the next opportunity.”

She shakes her head. “That could be years.”

He nods. “But it must happen naturally. If we force people’s hands, we will be no better than Metatron.” He sighs. “I have hope that she will choose Gadreel today, however. They already had a connection even before all of this, so there is hope that it will have been strengthened by what little time they’ve had together.”

Meg nods, looking over towards the gates and the two cars parked inside. “I spy a little bird perched on his pole.”

Cas looks over, squinting slightly. “That’s Samandriel, if I’m seeing the colors of his handkerchief correctly.”

“Should we see what we can do to corrupt him?” she asks with a chuckle.

He smiles at her. “I believe that job will be far easier than anticipated. He never liked the fighting much anyway.” He leads the way down to the ground level. “And that way we can be waiting for Michael when he comes back empty-handed.”

~~~

A knock sounds at the door, and Gadreel wipes his hands on a towel before going to answer it. Hannah watches him from the table, slicing up a couple small potatoes. He opens the door and finds Michael and Dean standing there. “Hello,” Michael says. “I’ve been informed that you traded for a woman who belongs to my camp.”

“And who are you?” Gadreel asks, crossing his arms. Hannah stands and comes over to stand beside him.

“Michael?” she asks, looking out the door. “You’re here to trade for me, aren’t you?”

“Hannah.” His eyes land on her, and an unpleasant shiver goes through her. “I’m glad to see you’re well. Yes, I’m here to trade for you, and I’m willing to pay a fair amount.” He looks to Gadreel again. “I’ll more than repay whatever you spent to buy her.”

The tall man shakes his head. “It is not my place. I do not own her. The spices I traded were for her freedom, not her life. She belongs to herself, and so the decision is hers to make.” He looks at Hannah, eyes softening. “It’s up to you, Hannah. Do you wish to return with Michael to the life you knew, or do you wish to stay with me? I will not try to sway you either way.”

Michael looks at Hannah as well. “Surely you wish to return with us. The Chosen are your family. We’re where you belong, Hannah.”

The woman bites her lip, considering for only a moment before she shakes her head. “No. You’re not. I never belonged there. You brainwash and bully us all into submission, asking us to give our lives for a war that we don’t even know the reason for any more.”

“Of course we know the reason!” His face is angry, brows drawn together. “Lucifer and the idiot Winchester boy started the apocalypse and created this damn wasteland.” Unnoticed, Dean’s jaw clenched at the insult to his brother.

She shakes her head again. “No. It’s not their fault, but it’s not your fault either. There is truth to be found, but it’s not with you and your pointless war. I’m staying here, and I’m going to do something useful.”

Michael frowns, then seems to shake himself internally and shrugs. “Fine. Stay here and rot. We’ll see what you can accomplish in this cesspool of wasted lives.” He turns and stalks off, Dean following along behind him again.

~~~

As Dean and Michael approach their cars, they notice Meg and Castiel conversing with Samandriel, who’s leaned his pole down so that it is parallel to the ground. “Just give it a thought, alright?” Cas says as the leaders walk up. The young man nods, straightening his pole as he notices the men.

“Poisoning the minds of my Falcons, Castiel?” Michael asks the blue-eyed man.

“Not poisoning so much as opening, Michael,” he responds sharply, turning to face him.

“Seems you’ve lost another little sparrow,” Meg says smugly. “She too taken with the hawk that snagged her yesterday?”

“I know you two talked to her and convinced her to stay. You’re the only ones who believe that neither side caused this desolation.” He points an accusing finger at them. “Which is utterly ridiculous.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean interjects, stepping between the three of them. “You have the same argument each time you see each other.” He looks at Michael. “So we lost her. She wasn’t one of our best anyways, who cares? We should just get back to camp and start making plans for the next skirmish.” The blond man narrows his eyes for a moment but then sighs and nods, stalking off to his car and getting in.

“Winchester’s still got the big guns in the relationship, huh?” Meg asks with a smirk.

“And you two,” Dean continues, rounding on them. “Shut the hell up and stop stealing our people.”

Cas shakes his head. “We’re not stealing them, Dean. Just enlightening them.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it, fine. But our people are leaving and you’re giving the Advocates an advantage over us. So stop, or else we’ll take it out on you and your Peacemongers.” He sighs and steps back, aware of Samandriel’s eyes on him.

“If you’re losing the battles, then maybe the fighting will stop soon.” And with that, Cas turns and walks off. Meg goes to follow him, but Dean stops her.

“Did you see my brother?” he asks quietly. She nods, once, face suddenly serious. “How is he?”

“The same,” she says. “Lifeless eyes, muzzle, chain. Lucifer’s pet dog, as usual.” He nods, looking down, and she turns away and follows Cas.

Dean drags a hand down his face and sighs deeply before getting into his car and starting her up, following Michael back out into the desert. Samandriel gets into position on the top of his pole, feet planted on the metal ring and one arm locked around it. He stares back at the Outpost as it fades behind him, thoughtful, before turning to face forward again.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for torture and rape.
> 
> Lucifer and the Advocates plan another attack. Michael punishes one of the Chosen for daring to attempt desertion. Gadreel, Hannah, Castiel, and Meg discuss a green place.

Samandriel crouches on the top of his pole, feet firmly planted on the ring of metal three feet from the tip of it. He’s secured the bottom so that it doesn’t sway, allowing him to keep watch over the camp on his shift. In the chill of the desert night, he’s slipped on a long-sleeved shirt to cover his usually bare chest. Usually, his thoughts are calm and steady, focused on doing what he’s been told to do, especially when on guard duty. Tonight, though, they’re racing as he replays the conversation with Castiel he’d had in the Outpost the previous day. He’d always looked up to the older man and the words he’d spoken echoed in his mind.

_ “You don’t really enjoy the fighting, do you, Samandriel?” He’d shaken his head, glancing around guiltily. “What if I told you that everything Michael’s ever said was a lie? That it wasn’t either side’s fault that the apocalypse happened?” The young man’s wide eyes had been answer enough. “We have the truth here, Samandriel. When you’re done with the fighting and the killing and the pain, come to us. We’re going to find a better place, one with peace and greenness.” He’d nodded and swung his pole back upwards as Michael had approached with Dean. _

Now the young Falcon sits atop his perch and his heart is racing at the speed of his thoughts. His eyes rove the camp out of habit and fall on an old, out-of-use motorcycle. An idea blooms in his mind and he checks the position of the moon quickly before swinging down from his pole and landing in the sand with a soft thud.

Dean stirs at the sound, having dozed off in the back of the Impala a few moments before, and leans up on his elbow, careful not to jostle the red-haired woman curled into his chest. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, glancing down to make sure she stays asleep. “Samandriel!” The blond-haired boy pauses, looking at Dean. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta take a piss,” he whispers back, shrugging nonchalantly. His eyes give him away.

“Don’t do it, kid. You know what they do to the ones who get caught.”

Samandriel’s shoulders slump, but his eyes harden. “I don’t want to fight any more.” He turns away from the Impala, making his way over to the motorcycle. Dean sighs, watching him prep it to run again, and lays back down, shaking his head. With a sputter and a bang, the motorcycle starts up, and Samandriel swings his leg over it, setting off away from camp.

The woman stirs slightly, muttering. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Anna,” Dean says, rubbing her shoulder absently. “Go back to sleep.” His own eyes close again after a moment, but he’s jolted awake yet again not five minutes later when footsteps roam outside his car and two voices speak lowly to each other. They recede into the distance and there’s the roar of an engine and another car takes off into the distance.

~~~

Lucifer leans over the table, examining the map laid before him. His advisors - Alastair, Ruby, Lilith, and Abaddon - stand around the table with him. Ruby’s leaning forward too, pointing out key details in the plan she’s outlining for their next attack. “You and the Winchester boy lead the attack from the center, Lilith and I each taking one side in a pincer move. And then Alastair, Abaddon, and the rest come up behind to trap any who try to run.” Sam, who is chained to the leg of the table, doesn’t even look up when she mentions his name; instead, he’s locked gazes with Eileen and is signing to her discreetly.

The leader of the Advocates nods. “That’s an excellent plan, Ruby.” He hums and rubs his chin, his eyes falling on Sam, who’s still signing to Eileen. Lucifer’s eyes dart to the woman just outside the door to the room and suddenly he’s full of rage. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” he screams at Sam, yanking him backwards by the chain on the back of his collar. Sam whimpers, raising his hands to ward off any blows and shaking his head furiously. Lucifer points at Eileen with his free hand, saying, “Abaddon, Alastair, you’ve got a new toy for the night. Teach her that it’s not proper to have secret conversations with my right hand man.” The two nod, grinning maliciously, and grab the woman by her arms, dragging her off.

Sam and Eileen’s eyes connect as she’s pulled away and she smiles softly, as if to reassure him that she’ll be okay, despite the fact that they both know Abaddon and Alastair’s reputations when it comes to torture. Tears pool in his eyes as he watches her disappear into a far cavern, but they’re quickly driven away when Lucifer pulls harshly at his collar again. “Well, Ruby,” he says, snarling. “Your plan is so excellent, you deserve a reward.” A wicked smirk crosses his face. “How does a night with our handsome giant sound?”

Ruby’s eyes glint and she chuckles darkly. “That is a more than sufficient reward, Morningstar,” she purrs, coming around the table to stand in front of Sam, who’s still crouched defensively on the ground. She bends down and grips his chin, smirking at the revulsion and defiance in his eyes. “I’m pleased to have served you so well to deserve this.”

Sam jerks his chin from her grip and Lucifer kicks him in the side, causing him to fall over in pain. “You belong to her tonight, boy, and you remember it,” he snarls, and then detaches the chain from the table and hands it to Ruby. “Go, take him now. Just get him out of my sight.” She nods and walks off, Sam standing and shuffling reluctantly after her, pulled along by the chain. “Lilith,” he says, looking at his last remaining advisor. “With me. Today was entirely too stressful.” She nods, smiling widely, and together they retreat to his bed.

~~~

Dean’s sitting on the hood of the Impala, chewing on a particularly tough piece of jerky and watching the horizon. He cranes his head back to check the position of the sun, and as if on cue, two vehicles appear in the distance. They draw closer and he can see that they’re connected: they’ve chained Samandriel up between the two cars. Dean shakes his head and looks down. “Damn it, kid,” he mutters, looking back up. “I told you not to run.” The cars pull to a stop and the two drivers, Uriel and Raphael, get out. They work on unchaining Samandriel, his feet falling first, and then his arms.

“Up,” Raphael commands, tugging on the chains still wrapped around his wrists. The boy tries to push himself up from the sand, arms shaking with the effort, but falls back with a groan. Uriel shakes his head and grabs Samandriel by the arm, pulling him up to his feet and dragging him into the camp. Dean locks eyes with the boy, giving him a sympathetic look, and then slides off the Impala and goes around to the back. He reaches inside and shakes Anna’s shoulder. “Hey, baby, wake up,” he says.

She groans and rolls over. “What?”

“I’ve got a feeling Michael’s gonna call a meeting. You’re gonna wanna be present for that.”

“Someone do something?” she asks, pushing herself up from the seat and rubbing her eyes.

“Kid ran off in the middle of the night, they just brought him back. Taking him to Michael right now, I’m sure.”

Anna sighs, shaking her head. “Who was it this time?”

She pulls her jeans back on as he answers, “Samandriel.”

“I never would have pegged him to run. I always thought he was the best of the Falcons.”

Dean nods, grabbing her shirt from the front seat where it’d ended up last night and handing it to her. “Yeah, he was a good one. But I think Castiel and Meg got to him yesterday.”

“Of course it was those two,” she says angrily as she pulls her boots on and gets out of the car. “They’re always fucking up something.” Dean shrugs noncommittally and hands her a canteen of water and some jerky before walking off in the same direction Uriel and Raphael had taken Samandriel.

~~~

Eileen screams hoarsely as Alastair drags his blade across her skin yet again. Abaddon chuckles, running her fingers through the blood as she says, “Doesn’t she just have the prettiest scream you’ve ever heard?”

“Indeed,” he replies, grinning widely. “Why don’t we see how many more we can get out of her before we retire for the night?”

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” Abaddon presses hard against a cut already inflicted, and Eileen screams again.

The scream echoes around the caves of the Advocate camp, and it even reaches Sam’s ears, despite his own pain of the moment. He’s chained to the wall, hands useless above him, as Ruby bites harshly at his neck and shoulders, her nails digging into his skin deeply. He cries out as she bites particularly hard, the muzzle having been removed beforehand because she’s got a thing for his sounds. “Please,” he whimpers when she pulls away. “Don’t do this…”

“Oh but Sam,” she says with a wicked smile. “It’s so much fun. Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t want you to-- AHHH!” He screams in pain as she moves over him, biting and scratching. Moans leave her lips while tears stream down his face. When it’s all over and she’s gotten off on his pain multiple times, she unhooks him from the wall with a sly grin.

“Go on,” she whispers. “I know you’re aching to make sure your girl’s alright after her treatment from Abaddon and Alastair. I’m done with you, but you know that if Lucifer catches you with her again…” She trails off the sentence with a dark chuckle and replaces the muzzle, latching it behind his head and leaving his hands bound. “If you can get around and help her in this state, without attracting the Morningstar’s attention, well, then maybe you deserve a little rest.” And with that she retreats to her bed in the corner of the cavern that belongs to her. Sam watches her warily for a moment before getting to his feet and limping away, heading for the source of the screams that tear at him inside.

Hours later, Eileen is dropped to the floor just outside the room where she was held, and for a while she can only lay there, whimpering quietly. Sam approaches her carefully and helps her up, leading her to a water trough where he then cleans her wounds and patches her up as best he can. When her senses return to her and she realizes who’s helping her, she stops him, signing, “Sam? What are you--”

He shakes his head, grabbing her hands briefly to still them before signing back, “Ruby let me go. This is alright as long as we don’t get caught by anyone.” She nods, hesitantly, and he returns to cleaning and bandaging her wounds, with some difficulty from the restraints. As he works, her eyes roam over his body, taking stock of the injuries that were inflicted on him.

When he’s finished with her, he leans back on his heels and she takes over, gently cleaning the countless bite marks and scratches. His eyes close as she takes care of him, her touches so soft and caring compared to what he’d just been subjected to. He sighs softly when she’s done, and at the touch of her hand on his chin, he opens his eyes again to look at her.

“Thank you,” she signs carefully, moving her hands deliberately to emphasize her gratitude.

Sam smiles softly in return and signs, “Of course.” Eileen goes to stand but nearly falls over, and he catches her carefully, lowering her to floor again. “We need to get you to Mildred. She can watch over you.” She nods, and he picks her up, maneuvering to get her into his arms despite the chains still around his wrists.

She directs him to the small, secluded corner of the large main cavern where she and Mildred usually sleep. The older woman looks up as they approach, standing quickly and helping Sam lower Eileen to the sleeping mat. He makes sure she’s comfortable and then moves to leave, but Eileen grabs his hands to stop him. “Stay,” she signs, a slight tone of desperation in the movements. “Please.” He glances at Mildred, who’s been watching, and she smiles.

“I’ll make sure you’re not found out,” she whispers, moving forward to keep watch. He nods gratefully, then stretches out beside Eileen.

She reaches up and removes his muzzle, setting it to the side and signing, “You might as well be free as you can while you’re away from them.” Tears fill his eyes, and he leans forward as if to kiss her, then pulls away again, seeming hesitant. She waits, watching him closely, and then he moves forward and kisses her forehead. Somehow, it’s more meaningful, more sincere, than if he’d kissed her on the lips, and she sighs with some unfathomable emotion as she pulls him closer to her and curls into his chest.

His arms wrap around her without a moment’s hesitation, though the surprise on his face would suggest they’d done it of their own accord. Slowly, slowly, he allows himself to relax with her, trusting that Mildred will keep watch for them. He doesn’t sleep, he hardly ever sleeps, but he manages to rest for the first time in a while, his face buried in her hair. She smiles as she feels his heartbeat under her hands, and despite the situation, a flutter of hope fills her chest.

~~~

Michael stands on the hood of his car, his followers gathered around him as he speaks. Dean leans against the side of the car, staring at the sand and ignoring most of the bullshit spewing from his leader’s mouth. It’s been years since Dean made the decision to follow Michael but even then, he knew he twisted words and manipulated people to join him. But joining him had seemed like the only way to stop the apocalypse, and now that it had happened… well, now there was nowhere else to go.

Samandriel is pulled up to the front, hanging limply between the hands of Naomi and Bartholomew, the two Chosen in charge of “reprogramming” those who tried to leave and failed. His face is bloody and battered, and the shirt he’d been wearing was torn to shreds, revealing the matching cuts and bruises to his torso beneath. Dean winces as he looks at the boy, shaking his head. Why hadn’t he just listened?

“The lies of the Advocates,” Michael shouts, drawing Dean’s attention. “Have corrupted many that we once thought loyal. It began with Castiel, who fell at the hands of Meg, and now they have taken Hannah, a good and worthy soldier, and they nearly took Samandriel. But I will not allow them to take another.” He jumps down, landing beside Samandriel, and takes the boy’s face in his hand. “What do you say, hm, Samandriel? Do you believe those lies Meg and Castiel poured into your ears?”

Samandriel shakes his head slowly and struggles to answer. “N-n-no, s-sir.”

“Good.” Michael drops him and speaks quietly to Naomi and Bartholomew. “Take him back to the reconditioning tent. He’ll stay there for a while longer.” They nod and drag the boy away.

Dean watches them go, frowning deeply. His thoughts found their way back to Cas and Meg, and the same old argument he heard them give time after time: neither party was responsible for the apocalypse, there was some third party involved. But how could there be? If that were the truth, wouldn’t the Advocates have stopped attacking by now? He frowns deeper and sighs, shaking his head again. It hurt to think of those things. Life was simple: Advocates were bad, Chosen were good, the Outpost was simply necessary. But when Dean looked at Samandriel and what they did to him, life didn’t seem so black and white.

~~~

Hannah and Gadreel sit across a table from Castiel and Meg, the latter couple having invited the former over for lunch and a discussion. “There has to be a green place, I just know it,” Cas says insistently.

The other man eats the last piece of his bread, chewing slowly and deliberately to avoid answering as Hannah answers, “But how can you be so sure?”

“Surely the entire planet hasn’t been engulfed in sand? I refuse to believe that. There has to be green, somewhere, all we have to do is find it.”

Meg nods. “And once we do, we can bring the news to the Chosen and the Advocates. Maybe knowing there is a green place where we can thrive together will convince them to stop fighting.”

Gadreel scoffs lightly, and the blue-eyed man looks at him intently. “You disagree, Gadreel?”

“For one,” he says, tone soft but firm. “It is very unlikely that any green place exists within a reasonable distance of here. And two, have you met the Morningstar and his brother? They’re about as likely to stop fighting each other as two cocks are likely to stop fighting over a hen.”

“But we have to try, at least,” Meg insists. “Peace is worth the risk.”

“Do we not have peace here, of a sort? If we keep our noses out of the business of others and just live our own lives in the Outpost, is that not peace enough?”

Cas frowns. “Why should we have peace when our friends still live and die under the deceptions of two brothers who hate each other?” He shakes his head. “No, we have to find a way for them to have peace, too, or our souls will never truly feel peaceful, knowing we left them to die in such a way.”

The other man sighs deeply, looking down into his empty bowl as though searching for answers. Hannah watches him closely, noticing the way his jaw clenches and that his posture is stiff. She might not have been with him for long, but somehow she could tell that he was hiding something. There had been something in the way he’d been so sure about the green place. Then an idea hit her. “Couldn’t we make a green place?” she asks, interrupting whatever Meg had been saying.

“What?” the three of them ask simultaneously.

“Couldn’t we make our own gardens and such?” She looks at Gadreel. “You know, like your--” His eyes go wide and he shakes his head slightly so that she chokes on her words, back-pedaling. “Like… what you showed me in those old books.”

“No, those books were very outdated and scientifically incorrect,” Gadreel says, relief flooding his features. “It would never actually work.”

Cas and Meg exchange a glance with raised eyebrows, but Hannah quickly stands to clear away the empty dishes. “Well, that was an excellent meal,” she says. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to excuse myself from your company. I’m still a little beat up and in need of rest.”

“Yes,” Gadreel adds quickly, standing and helping her. “She does still need rest after her ordeal. We’ll just clean up and then be on our way.”

Cas shakes his head, taking the dishes and saying, “No, allow us. We don’t want to wear you out further, Hannah.”

Meg smiles softly at her. “Rest up. We can talk about this more later.”

“That’s very gracious, thank you.” And with that, Gadreel and Hannah make their way back to Gadreel’s house.

“Gadreel,” Hannah says quietly as they walk. “Why didn’t you want me to mention your garden?”

He sighs deeply and answers, “Not many people know about it. In fact, you are the only one who knows of it outside of the city organizers.”

“Oh. Why--”

“Please, Hannah, no questions. I’ll… I’ll explain it all, but later, not now. It’s not the time for it, yet.”

She frowns, confused, but drops her questions and follows him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, kudos and comments keep a writer happy!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed it!


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